


just to fall once more

by darkangel0410



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Making Out, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 18:42:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10747581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel0410/pseuds/darkangel0410
Summary: The problem is that Brandon smells amazing.Well, there’s a lot of problems with Brandon as far as Charlie’s concerned, but one of the major ones was that he smelled like snow and pine trees and just enough of sandalwood to drive Charlie crazy. The first time he sees Brandon, the omega in him wants to bare his neck and beg Brandon to fuck him. It gets better after a while, familiarity making Brandon’s impact on him less powerful, but he never forgets that Brandon’s an alpha.





	just to fall once more

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I have a lot of feelings on Charlie McAvoy. Who knew? Enjoy Charlie and Brandon (Carlo) being dumb about each other.

The last time Charlie saw Brandon was the morning after his heat broke and he rode Brandon’s knot for another twenty minutes, purring low in his throat the whole time; Brandon’s hands tight on his hips and telling him how hot he looked, both of them covered in sweat and come, the sheets soaked in slick. He went and showered and when he got back out Brandon was passed out, face buried in a pillow and snoring. Charlie texted him on his way out the door in a rush to get to the airport and told him to call later.

Brandon never called him and Charlie can take a hint, probably better than most omegas; Brandon wasn’t the first alpha he went home with that never called him again and Charlie was sure he wouldn’t be the last.

He was the only one that ended up being on the same team that drafted him, so Charlie supposes he has that going for him.

*

The problem is that Brandon smells amazing.

Well, there’s a lot of problems with Brandon as far as Charlie’s concerned, but one of the major ones was that he smelled like snow and pine trees and just enough of sandalwood to drive Charlie crazy. The first time he sees Brandon, the omega in him wants to bare his neck and beg Brandon to fuck him. It gets better after a while, familiarity making Brandon’s impact on him less powerful, but he never forgets that Brandon’s an alpha.

And he also never forgets that Brandon is the only alpha that made him think _maybe_ , even if it was only for a second.

That comes later, though.

*

The first time he sees Brandon again after he gets called up, Brandon’s reaction is almost comical: he freezes in the middle of the weight room, his whole body tense and he straightens after a second, slowly and purposely; Charlie hears him inhale deeply before he half turns towards Charlie, staring at him for almost a full minute.

Charlie keeps his face blank, vague disinterest the only thing he wants to show Brandon, but being in the same room as him after six months is almost overwhelming; it takes all his self-control to stay on his feet, looking straight at Brandon.

Brandon’s the only alpha that’s ever affected him this way, that makes him want to submit without saying or doing anything and Charlie hates it; he knows, objectively, that it’s not Brandon’s fault: he didn’t choose to be an alpha anymore than Charlie chose being an omega. But it’s hard to remember to be objective when his body reacts to Brandon the way it does, even after Brandon basically told him to go fuck off. 

Charlie tells himself that it’s just biology, it’s just something that happens: he’s not a slave to his dynamic, no matter what people what to say, and he’s been proving people wrong since he presented as an omega when he was fourteen and got told he would be better off concentrating on a different career.

But he’s just petty enough for it to make his day to see Brandon as affected as he was.

*

Charlie gets texts from almost everyone he knows after his first game, including Matts who’s busy with his own playoff run; he even gets some from a some of the guys who were a couple years ahead of him in the program. He can’t help the way he preens at everyone’s praise, puffing out his chest and grinning for the rest of the night.

It’s not until hours later, half asleep but still a little buzzed from the drinks the guys had bought him while they were out, that he gets another text from Eichs; it’s short, just _u ok_ , and if it had been anyone else, Charlie would have been completely at a loss to understand why someone was asking him that right now. But Eichs was an omega, too, and he had always looked out for Charlie when he could in his own way; Eichs was a different person than he was in a lot of ways, but he understood what it was like to be an omega in an alpha and beta dominated sport and Charlie let Eichs ask him stuff that he would never tolerate from almost anyone else, including his family.

It’s that same understanding that prompts him to answer truthfully when he would have blown anyone else off; _i hate that i still want him_. It takes a few minutes for Eichs to answer back, _yah i know what u mean it sucks_ , followed immediately by, _sometimes i imagine punching mcdavid in the face, that helps some_. It makes Charlie snicker a little and relax back into the bed, he sends _mayb ill just actualy punch him in the face since hes so close now_ and falls asleep.

He has a small headache when he gets up in the morning, but he laughs anyway when he sees Eichs last text to him, _wicked make sure someone films it so we can all laugh_.

*

Charlie tries to keep his distance from Brandon and it works for the most part; they really only interact a few times and they’re both careful to keep it light. He sees some of the older guys side-eying them, especially Bergeron, and he has to wonder if they’d be getting away with this if they weren’t in the middle of the playoffs.

He wants to treat Brandon the same way he does Matts or Fitzy or even Whitey, to chirp him about his taste in clothes and roll his eyes when Brandon gets distracted on the ice by an omega from the other team; but Brandon’s never been just a friend to him, even back when they _were_ friends, and Charlie can’t forget that.

*

They beat Ottawa in sevens games and there’s only a few days downtime in between rounds, but the guys decide to go out to celebrate and Pasta cajoles Charlie into agreeing to meet them at the bar, promising to pay for his drinks. When Charlie finally agrees, Pasta does a little fistpump before wandering off. It makes Charlie grin as he heads out to go home; it falters a little when he sees Brandon watching him but Charlie just raises an eyebrow and smirks when Brandon looks away.

The place they go to is more club than bar, with a VIP section off to the side on the first floor; it’s packed but there’s not a lot of heads turning their way when they walk in and the bartenders and waiters don’t even bother asking Charlie or Brandon for ID when they order drinks.

Pasta buys the first few rounds as promised, lining Charlie up with a few shots in between rounds, and he’s pretty buzzed by the time Pasta wanders off to flirt with a pretty beta girl that’s dancing by them. Almost everyone on the team ends up stopping by even if it’s only for an hour or so and Charlie eventually loses track of Brandon in between talking to everyone and drinking, and he’s drunk enough that leaving the booth to go get more free drinks seems like a good idea and no one tells him to stop, they just egg him on and roar with laughter when he almost falls over on his way to the bar.

He’s in the middle of flirting with the bartender, a cute alpha who smells like lilacs and oranges and keeps topping off the beer in front of him, when he smells snow and pine trees and it’s all he can do to stop himself from whimpering.

“Hey,” Brandon says when he settles at the bar next to Charlie; he’s been drinking, too, but he’s still careful to keep some space between them even with how busy the place is.

Charlie doesn’t say anything to him, just grins at the bartender when she comes by and tops off his drink again. “Thanks,” he tells her, ducking his head a little bit so he can look up at her through the hair falling forward onto his face; she shakes her head with a laugh, but it’s more admiring than anything else and she winks at him before going back across the bar to serve other customers.

Charlie settles back on the stool and takes a long drink of his beer before he finally acknowledges Brandon. “Hey.” 

“You’ve been playing really well,” Brandon tells him after a few seconds; he sounds drunk but otherwise sincere and Charlie hates how the praise makes him want to cuddle up to Brandon and start purring.

“Thanks,” Charlie says and he’s proud of how flat his voice is; it’s bad enough that he still wants Brandon but he doesn’t need to broadcast it if he can at all help it. He knows his scent probably gives away more than he wants it to, but he’s trying to control the things he can and it’s worked out so far.

He doesn’t say anything else and tries to ignore how Brandon smells, but it’s hard when his scent is thick in Charlie’s nose and he can feel Brandon radiating body heat and it’s almost enough to make Charlie wish he had decided to go back to school for another year.

“I just -I wanted to say I was sorry,” Brandon says after another couple minutes of silence; he sounds earnest and embarrassed and he smells like he feels sorry for himself and it’s enough to make Charlie furious all of a sudden.

“Sorry for what? Fucking me through my heat and then ignoring me afterwards?” Charlie snarls at him, leaning into his personal space so that there’s only a few inches between and he can see Brandon startle at their sudden close proximity. “You’re not the first one to ever fuck and ditch me, buddy, so you don’t need to apologize for it, either.”

“Look, I -can we go somewhere else and take about this?” Brandon asks him, his face flushed from alcohol and their conversation; his neck’s red, too, and Charlie finds himself wondering if he still flushes clear down to his chest when he’s turned on.

It’s not a thought that he’s particularly proud of and he tries to forget about it by smirking at Brandon. “I’m fine right here, Brando. Afraid someone’s going to hear us? Or just afraid you’ll hafta admit you were a dumbfuck?”

Charlie’s buzz had died some when Brandon had come over, but he’s still drunk enough to goad Brandon into a shouting match and he knows that’s exactly what’s going to happen when he smells black pepper wash out Brandon’s usual scent. 

There’s no telling how bad it would have gotten -Charlie’s no shrinking omega, backing down at the first sign of anger from an alpha and Brandon’s temper was awful once he actually lost it- because Marchy comes over to check on them, probably drawn over by the way the people around them had slowly started backing off.

“Hey, guys, you just about ready to head out?” Marchy asks easily, the hint of steel under the usual cinnamon of his usual scent making Charlie wrinkle his nose; he squeezes the back of Brandon’s neck, Charlie can tell by the way Brandon tenses and then suddenly deflates letting go of his anger as quickly as he always did. Marchy’s careful to keep his hand on Charlie’s shoulder and there’s no hint of alpha in his voice when he goes on, “I’ll give you guys a ride home, I have to get McDrunky out of here before he starts telling strangers how much he loves them next.”

Marchy rolls his eyes but he sounds fond and happy and it’s there in his scent, the faint hint of happy that’s always threaded through it no matter what else is going on. It makes Charlie exhausted all of a sudden, tired and wanting his bed so he lets Marchy herd him over to where Bergy is hanging onto an amused Quiader, mumbling in French.

Quiader transfers Bergy over onto Brad, laughing when Bergy drapes himself over Marchy and starts nuzzling his face. “You need help getting them home?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine, I doubt anyone’s going to give me a hard time,” Marchy tells him, patting Bergy’s back and using his other hand to motion towards Charlie and Brandon; Charlie was already starting to feel embarrassed and he wasn’t planning on doing anything but go home and pass out as soon as he hit his bed.

Quiader pats him on the back and gives him a sympathetic look before he says, “I’m going to start getting everyone else out of here, make sure no one’s driving if they shouldn’t be.”

“Sounds good, Quiader,” Marchy fist bumps him before turning and heading towards the door, walking carefully so Bergy doesn’t stumble and with Charlie and Brandon trailing after him.

The rest of the way home is quiet, Charlie climbing into the back seat of Marchy’s SUV and Brandon gets in the front; normally Charlie might make some noise about sitting in the back, but he doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now and he’s more than happy to let Brandon sit in the front and answer any questions Marchy might have.

Bergy ends up leaning against him after he gets in; he beams at Charlie, says “Mac!” and pats his face before he lists sideways and lets all his weight rest on Charlie. He starts snoring, interrupting himself once in a while to mumble something in French. It’s comforting and Bergy smells settled and happy, like he has everything he’s ever wanted right here. 

He passes out and he’s not sure how long it’s been when he comes to again, just that Marchy was trying to open his hotel door. “Bergy,” Charlie manages to get out before he starts falling against the doorway and suddenly he’s too preoccupied with staying upright to remember what he was trying to say.

“He’s fine, Mac, passed out in the car with Brando,” Marchy tells him easily, reaching out a hand to keep him from tipping over; the light on the door flashes green at the same time and Marchy opens the door and lets Charlie stumble through it. Charlie heads straight to his bed and doesn’t bother even taking his shoes off before he face plants.

He can hear Marchy moving around and talking but it’s easy to ignore him and just let himself pass back out.

*

Charlie wakes up in the morning with a pounding headache and the desire to curl up into a ball under the sheets and die; he manages to sit up enough to spot the gatorade and aspirin on his night stand next to his key card; he takes some painkillers and chugs the gatorade until he feels like he’s going to throw up, then gives into the urge to bury himself under his pillow and go back to sleep.

He wakes up again a couple hours later and feels less like death; he digs his phone out of his pocket and plugs it in before he strips and goes into the shower. Charlie puts the water as hot as he can stand it and jerks off, he’s careful to keep his fantasies generic and away from any thoughts of Brandon. After he rinses off, he turns off the water and gets out, wrapping a towel around his waist and wandering out to check his phone.

Charlie shoots a quick _thanks for not letting me die, sorry if i was obnoxious,_ ; text to Marchy and Bergy to let them know he’s alright. There’s a text from an unknown number sitting in his inbox and when he opens it, his stomach tightens and he suddenly feels nauseous again. It’s not long at all, just a few words, but he knows it’s from Brandon and even though it only says, _i really am sorry_ , it opens a whole new set of problems for him. 

Charlie almost doesn’t answer, but he knows he owes Brandon an apology for last night; however justified his anger with him was, he should know better than to start a fight in the middle of a club, no matter how drunk they both were. The text he sends to him is short, just an apology for being a dick, and then deletes the whole thread so he’s not tempted to save Brandon’s number. 

Charlie isn’t dumb enough to tempt fate that way and whatever leftover feelings he did or didn’t have for Brandon, Brandon had made his own feelings clear and Charlie wasn’t about to make an even bigger fool of himself over him. 

* 

Charlie’s just settling into the hotel room when there’s a soft knock on the door that’s between his room and the one next to it; they’ve got curfew tonight and an early practice in the morning, so it’s a surprise when he sees Brandon standing there. 

“I didn’t know you were next to me,” Charlie says after a few seconds of them staring at each other; Brandon smells hesitant, like he’s afraid Charlie is going to shut the door in his face. Charlie has to stop himself from inviting Brandon into the room, from the instinctive need to make Brandon feel better; it’s an omega response to a disappointed alpha, to placate and cheer up so the alpha isn’t mad at the omega in question any more. It’s the kind of response that only Brandon seems to elicit in him and Charlie hates that it still happens even now. 

“Yeah, I asked Pasta to switch with me,” Brandon admits sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “Can I come in for a minute?” 

“No,” Charlie tells him and then in spite of himself, he adds, “I’m about to go to bed,” when he sees the crestfallen look on his face. 

“Oh. I, uh, just wanted to talk to you,” Brandon explains, waving his hand around briefly before he rests it on the door frame. Charlie has a vivid image flash into his mind of those fingers opening him up while he whined and begged for more, the sticky sweet scent of heat thick in the air around them; it only lasts for a second before Charlie focuses back on the present and their conversation, and he really hopes that his scent isn’t going to give his brief inattention away. “I don’t want us to be so, uh, at odds with each other? We’re both going to be here for a while and we shouldn’t be so weird with each other.” 

Charlie closes his eyes and counts to ten and tries to block Brandon’s scent from his nose; he wants to calm himself down so he doesn’t snap at Brandon and start a fight and bring the team to their doors. “Brandon, I don’t -look, I can’t forget what happened alright? Trust me, I want nothing more than to be indifferent to you but it’s not working that way. I’ve tried, and I’ll keep trying, but it’s there for me and it’s not going anywhere.” 

“Yeah, it’s hard for me, too, Mac, but I -” 

“Don’t even try to say it’s the same thing,” Charlie grounds out, leaning forward until he’s in Brandon’s space; he barely manages to keep his voice down and he can only imagine what his scent’s doing when Brandon wrinkles his nose and takes a careful step back. “You didn’t get ignored by someone you thought you actually mattered to or get fucked and ditched, so don’t fucking stand there and tell me how difficult everything is for you, dickhead, because I don’t fucking care.” 

“Who ever said I didn’t care?” Brandon says, stepping closer to Charlie; he reaches out his hand to try and soothe Charlie, an alpha’s instinctive desire to take care of a distressed omega, but drops it when Charlie flinches away from him. “I just didn’t -the draft was coming up and I had no clue where I was going to go and where you were going the next year, and I didn’t think it was a great idea to start anything serious.” 

“Yeah, sure, and what exactly stopped you from telling me that?” Charlie asks and rolls his eyes when Brandon flushes bright red but doesn't say anything. “That’s what I thought, asshole.” 

“Look, I am sorry, for what it’s worth,” Brandon finally says after a tense silence; he smells it, too, burnt ashes mixed with snow and pine trees. 

“Yeah, me, too,” Charlie tells him, before he closes the door with a soft click, his anger gone as suddenly as it came. 

He turns the lights off and crawls into bed, pulls the covers over his head and tries not to think of anything but the game tomorrow. 

It’s a long time before he falls to sleep. 

* 

They lose to Montreal in five and suddenly Charlie’s got his whole summer open ahead of him. He goes to Worlds because he doesn’t want to stay home and brood until training camp starts; it’s not until he’s packing to leave that he hears that Brandon’s going, too, and it takes more than he’d like to admit for him to finish packing and leave when he originally planned to. 

They’re not on the same flight thankfully and Charlie spends the seven hour flight dozing on and off, deliberately not thinking about the series or how his blown coverage of Gallagher let him tie the game before the Canadiens went on and won it in OT. 

And if he stares at the seat in front of him and thinks about Brandon, well, no one has to know it but him. 

* 

They start the tournament 3-0-1 and celebrate by getting drunk in Hanny’s room on cheap beer and whiskey; most of the team ends up there, spread out around the room, sitting in groups of two and three, chirping each other and yelling. 

Brandon’s here, too, leaning against the dresser with his legs folded under him; he’s talking to Matts and Reims; he’s drinking beer and laughing, throwing his head back, and it’s like an angry itch under Charlie’s skin, how he wants to climb into Brandon’s lap and bite his neck, mark the skin there so everyone knows Brandon’s his. 

Charlie grimaces and drinks more of the whiskey in his hand; it’s been getting worse lately, how often Brandon pops into his head and how long he stays there before Charlie can shake him off again. He knows it’s just because they’ve been seeing each other almost every day for the past few months, just the forced proximity playing tricks on him. 

Hanny comes over and gives him a friendly elbow and tells him to stop brooding, and Charlie manages to shove him back and start paying attention to the rest of the party again. 

Some guys drift out of the party after a couple hours and everyone that’s left ends up in a loose semi-circle on the floor, nursing the last of the alcohol and Hanny decides that it’s the perfect time to play Never Have I Ever; Charlie’s in between Eichs and Larks, and Brandon’s right across from him. 

He’s drunk and mostly happy and it makes him reckless enough to say, “Never have I ever purred for more than one alpha before,” when it’s his turn. Larks cheerfully chugs the rest of his drink and Charlie doesn’t think he imagines the dirty look Eichs gives him before he takes a small sip out of his cup. Most of the alphas and betas start arguing about whether or not they have to drink, but Brandon’s just staring at Charlie, his forehead creased with a frown, like he’s trying to figure out what Charlie meant.

The party breaks up soon after that, Hanny cheerfully kicking out everyone when people start falling asleep; Eichs stays back, already sprawled out on the bed half-asleep, and Charlie pauses to nudge his foot on the way out. “You good?” 

“Yeah, man,” Eichs assures him; he cracks open his eyes and gives him a half smile. “Just tired. I’ll be fine with Hanny. Make sure Larks gets to his room?” 

“No problem,” Charlie assures him before he goes and drags Larks out of the room with him; Larks goes easily, bumping into Charlie and giggling as they go down the hallway. It’s not long before Charlie’s snickering along with and when he deposits Larks in his room and makes sure his shoes are at least off before he passes out, he’s in a pretty good mood as he goes back to his own room. 

He turns the corner of the hallway and he’s hit by a wall of Brandon’s scent, pine trees and snow and fucken sandalwood, intertwined with oranges and sugar, and Charlie has to stop breathe through his mouth for a second, just to try to clear his suddenly foggy brain; it’s just the alcohol, he _knows_ that, his heat’s not until the end of August and it doesn’t feel the same as that, there’s no desperation clouding his thinking, just the scent of Brandon and his desire and curiosity and it’s a struggle for him to stay upright. 

After a minute Charlie takes another deep breath and grimaces when he steps forward and his boxers are sticking uncomfortably to his ass, his body betraying how much he wants the alpha leaning against the wall by his room. 

Brandon turns to look at him and he inhales sharply, flushing even redder when he catches Charlie’s scent; he stays where he is, though, and doesn’t make a move towards Charlie despite what his body’s probably telling him to do. Charlie’s always admired Brandon’s control. 

“What’s up, Brando?” Charlie asks as he slowly walks to his door; he stops in front of him and takes in the way Brandon’s leaning against the wall, his shoulders carefully curled forwards to make himself seem smaller and non-threatening. Charlie’s not sure if he’s amused or insulted that Brandon thinks he needs to be placated that way. 

“I, uh, just wanted to talk to you,” Brandon answers, his voice raspy from drinking; he clears his throat and carefully straightens up, keeping against the wall so he’s not looming over Charlie. 

“Sure, about what?” Charlie asks, trying to pretend he has no clue what Brandon’s talking about; he fishes in his pocket for his key card and then just passes it from hand to hand to keep them busy. 

“Just what you said before, did you mean it?” Brandon finally says, the words almost running into each other in his rush to get them out; curiosity is warring with desire to overwhelm his normal scent and Charlie wishes he knew what Brandon was thinking. “That you just purred for me, I mean,” he adds when Charlie doesn’t say anything. 

“Yeah,” Charlie finally admits after a few more seconds of silence; he could lie but his scent would give him away and really, Brandon would know the truth either way. Besides, he’s not ashamed of the fact that apparently he’s really picky about the alphas he purrs for. “I don’t think it matters, but, yeah, I was telling the truth.” 

“I didn’t know,” Brandon tells him, finally moving away from the wall to get in Charlie’s space; Charlie doesn’t back away from him or let on in any other way how much it’s affecting him having Brandon within touching distance of him when he’s this drunk and already worked up. “I knew that we were friends, but you thought I was special and I didn’t _know_ -” 

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Charlie asks, trying to keep track of their conversation when all he wants to do is drag Brandon into his room. “You’re not making any sense, dude.” 

“I didn’t call you because I thought we were friends and with the draft and everything, it didn’t,” Brandon falters for a second and shakes his head before he finally says, “It didn’t -it was too much if we were only friends,” he finally finishes quietly, shrugging his shoulders. 

It takes a few minutes before the words make sense and it’s another minute after that before Charlie can put into what words to what he wants to say. “You didn’t -you could have just called and asked me, you fucking idiot. 

“Do you even understand how fucking stressed and just angry I’ve been about this whole thing,” Charlie adds, struggling to keep from yelling; he shoves Brandon back a couple times to punctuate his point until Brandon hits the wall. He keeps his hand on Brandon’s chest, soaking in the warmth of his body heat and it’s the first time they’ve been this close without pads and gear between them in months and Charlie can’t help the thrill that goes through him when he presses closer to Brandon. “You could have called and asked me and I would have told you I fucking _like_ like you, you fucking moron, and instead of all this bullshit, we could have been fucking.” 

Brandon’s scent slowly changes, wild roses washing out the smell of oranges; he slowly raises his hand and rests it against the side of Charlie’s face, eyes darting to Charlie’s to make sure it’s ok. “You like me?” 

“Oh my god, you fucking moron,” Charlie repeats incredulously before he surges up on his toes to kiss Brandon; Brandon makes a surprised noise and then eagerly opens mouth, his hand sliding down to rest loosely around Charlie’s neck and his other arm coming to wrap around Charlie’s waist. 

He pulls Charlie closer, so they’re pressed together from chest to thigh, both of Charlie’s hands fisted in Brandon’s hair while they kiss roughly, biting at each other’s lips; Brandon pulls back enough that he can scrape his teeth down Charlie’s throat; it’s gentle, meant to be comforting, just mixing their scents together, but it makes Charlie whimper and drag his head back up for another long kiss. 

Charlie’s well on his way to rubbing off on Brandon’s thigh, his boxers and pants a mess of slick and precome, and he’s pretty sure he’s soaked Brandon’s jeans, too, but Charlie doesn’t think Brandon minds, judging by the pleased growling noises he’s letting out. 

“Um, guys? Guys,” there’s just enough alpha in the words to make Charlie pull away and look around in confusion and it makes Brandon snarl, low in his throat and threatening, before he manages to control himself; Charlie looks over his shoulder to see Saader standing there, hands open and relaxed, smelling embarrassed and sheepish. Saader keeps himself relaxed and slumped forward, and ducks his head before he goes on, “Sorry, but I’ve been trying to get your attention for a few minutes? I just, uh, don’t think you want to get caught in the hallway, um, you know, messing around.” 

“Yeah. Uh, yeah, thanks, man,” Charlie tells him sincerely, feeling himself flush from embarrassment; he takes a small step away from Brandon and then stares blankly at his hands until Saader coughs politely. It’s possible that he’s still a little drunk. 

“The keycard’s on the floor,” Saader says, careful to keep his voice bland; if he was sober, Charlie might be more mortified to be caught making out in a hallway, but right now, all he wants is to get inside his room and go back to kissing Brandon. 

Charlie somehow manages to bend over and get the keycard without falling over and hurting himself; he stumbles to the side, a little, when he straightens up again, but Brandon reaches out a hand to steady him almost immediately, and he doesn’t actually end up on the ground, so he takes it as win. 

He fumbles with the keycard a little bit and it takes more than a dozen swipes for the light to turn green _and_ for Charlie to remember to open the door at the same time. “Seriously, Saader, thanks, dude,” Charlie tells him again, before he pulls Brandon into his room after him and closes the door behind them. 

It only takes a few seconds before they’re kissing again, both of them trying to get out of their shoes and clothes at the same time; Charlie’s finally got his own shoes and pants off and Brandon’s shirt hanging off of one arm, and he’s _finally_ kissing him again, when his phone starts going off. 

“Oh, Jesus fuck, what the hell. Someone better be dead,” Charlie says loudly when he answers the phone, angry at getting interrupted _again_ ; Brandon nuzzles the side of his neck and kisses his shoulder, before biting him softly. It’s pretty distracting and Charlie has to clear his voice and say, “What,” to get whoever’s calling him to repeat themselves. 

“Saader just called me with the most interesting story,” Eichs drawls in his ear, sounding way too amused for someone who had been mostly asleep when Charlie had left him earlier; he groans and rests his head on Brandon’s shoulder. “You good over there?” 

“Fucking Saader,” Charlie complains, rolling his eyes when he lifts his head and Brandon looks at him. “Yeah, man, I’m good, I promise. No one took advantage of me, seriously.” 

“Please, I know you, Mac, you’re probably taking advantage of him,” Eichs scoffs and Charlie can imagine the smirk on his face. “And leave Saader out of this, I told him if he saw anything shifty with you or Larks to let me know.” 

Charlie’s filled with fondness for Eichs, all of sudden, for checking up on him and looking out for him and Larks, and probably every other omega he’s ever come into contact with. “Nah, man, I’m good, I promise. But, uh, thanks, Eichs, I really appreciate it.” 

“Now I _know_ you’re off your ass,” Eichs laughs, but he sounds happy and relaxed and Charlie suddenly wonders if anyone else ever gets to see this side of Eichs. It’s a fleeting thought, though, gone as soon as Eichs starts talking again. “Alright, call me in the morning when you’re awake. I’ll be here if you need anything before then, too.” 

Charlie easily understands the none too subtle subtext, even as drunk as he is: _call me if he does anything you don’t want and he won’t listen to your no_. “I will, man. Night, Eichs.” 

Charlie hangs up and leans far enough away from to Brandon to put his phone on the nightstand and then he’s back in Brandon’s space again, kissing him. He pulls back a little after a few minutes because Eichs’s call had reminded him about how much they were drinking and he can feel exhaustion tugging at his system as he full on yawns in Brandon’s face; Brandon just buries his face in Charlie’s neck and starts giggling. 

“Ok, man, bedtime,” Charlie tells him, pulling away and stripping his shirt off; he pulls off his boxers, too, because they’re already a lost cause at this point. “We can talk in the morning,” he adds with another yawn; he settles on the bed and plugs his phone in before he glances back up at Brandon, who’s still standing by the door, frowning a little bit. 

“You’re sleeping here, right?” Charlie asks, hating how hesitant his voice sounds even to his own ears. Brandon smells the same as usual, desire almost completely gone from his scent and exhaustion seeping in; he doesn’t smell like burnt ashes or black pepper, but Charlie can’t help but worry a little that Brandon’s changed his mind. 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you wanted me to stay,” Brandon tells him, smelling happy and pleased again; he steps out of pants and shakes his shirt off the rest of the way off. 

Charlie rolls his eyes and relaxes back on the bed, at ease again that he knew Brandon was going to spend the night; he didn’t bother hiding the way he watched him stretch a little before he came over to the bed and hesitantly stretches out on the mattress next to Charlie. He leans over to give Brandon a quick kiss before he rolls over onto his side, his back to Brandon; he waits a few seconds before he says, “If you’re not a cuddler, I’m going to be real disappointed, dude.” 

Immediately Brandon presses against his back and drapes an arm around his waist and rubs his cheek against Charlie’s shoulder and then kisses the back of Charlie’s neck before he puts his head on the pillow. 

It doesn’t take long before they fall asleep and Charlie’s pretty sure he’s still grinning when he drops off. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [like sweat dripping down our dirty laundry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13010913) by [Idday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idday/pseuds/Idday)




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